


beside you in time

by shirogains



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14531373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirogains/pseuds/shirogains
Summary: In the beginning, Shiro’s eyes were drawn to him.Not because of his unkempt black hair, and not because of the supple form of his body, but because he had one hell of a right hook.It catches Shiro squarely in the jaw while he’s distracted by the grim set of Keith’s mouth. He dodges to the side but the damage is done, his body steered by Keith’s adroit fist into a dizzying course that sends him stumbling a few steps. He re-centres and pivots back to face Keith, whose elbows are tucked in close to his body, weight thrown into the balls of his feet and ready to shift at a moment’s notice.Keith’s reflexes are sharper than his words. Shiro’s been on the receiving end of both, and it’s taken extensive experience with that barbed tongue for him to know what he prefers. A well-placed fist over a verbal beatdown any day of the week.He also knows not to take it to heart. Keith’s reaction to news of the Kerberos mission is like staring through a looking glass.





	beside you in time

**Author's Note:**

> my fic for the sheith zine, _Between Two Points_. the title is taken from a nine inch nails song. keeping fic under 1k is nigh impossible.

In the beginning, Shiro’s eyes were drawn to him.

Not because of his unkempt black hair, and not because of the supple form of his body, but because he had one hell of a right hook.

It catches Shiro squarely in the jaw while he’s distracted by the grim set of Keith’s mouth. He dodges to the side but the damage is done, his body steered by Keith’s adroit fist into a dizzying course that sends him stumbling a few steps. He re-centres and pivots back to face Keith, whose elbows are tucked in close to his body, weight thrown into the balls of his feet and ready to shift at a moment’s notice.

Keith’s reflexes are sharper than his words. Shiro’s been on the receiving end of both, and it’s taken extensive experience with that barbed tongue for him to know what he prefers. A well-placed fist over a verbal beatdown any day of the week.

He also knows not to take it to heart. Keith’s reaction to news of the Kerberos mission is like staring through a looking glass. Shiro had to internalise his response, press it down with any of a hundred other fears related to duty calling him away from Keith. He told himself it was for Keith’s sake. In actuality, it was for his own.

He doesn’t know what to expect from the mission. He only recognises the slow burgeoning of a quiet dread in the chasm of his chest. The unknown will take him far from Earth, far from home.

Far from Keith.

Shiro’s chest tightens. He forgets where he is and what they’re doing and how they came to be in this moment. His arms lower marginally from their protective cradle as he draws in the sight of Keith before him, committing it to memory for the thousandth time.

Time is slipping away, commanding a kind of desperation he hasn’t felt before. The kind that clings to his core, making demands. It forces his thoughts into a repetitive loop: what if this--us--changes while I’m gone?

There’s a fleeting second where Shiro considers lunging for Keith’s hands. He could try to hold them, placate Keith, mitigate some of the pain. But he could also bear Keith’s silent fury, weather the storm of his fists and wait for it to subside. Blow by blow until Keith’s exhausted himself, reduced to gritted teeth and dry sobs pressed into Shiro’s chest.

Shiro exhales through his nose, resets. “I thought we said no contact?”

“I changed my mind.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Mid-spar? That’s not like you, Keith.”

An almost imperceptible smirk plays at Keith’s lips. “Tired already, Shiro? We just got started.”

Shiro rubs a hand along his jaw, exposing his midsection long enough for Keith to surge forward, taking an opportunistic swipe at him. Shiro veers out of Keith’s sphere of reach and the frustration surfaces again in the knit of Keith’s eyebrows, the pinch of his lips.

“You’re angry.”

“I’m not angry,” Keith snaps. The bite of his words is instant, vehement. “I’m—”

The lapse in Keith’s concentration is a heartbeat too long. Shiro strikes at him, decisive and intent. His aim for the soft point below Keith’s ribcage is true to the mark, and he follows it up with a swift jab at Keith’s face, making hard contact with his jaw in return for earlier. Blood trickles from the split in Keith’s lip in the silence that ensues.

Then, dazed, Keith staggers back. He falls into a defensive crouch, the shock in his eyes momentary and reflexive but gratifying in a way Shiro doesn’t care to examine too closely. He bites down a smile when Keith gazes at him with newfound interest, laced with the same kind of respect that’s been present since the day they were introduced to each other.

“Angry,” Shiro finishes. He doesn’t drop his guard, cognizant of the swiftly changing tides of Keith’s mood. “Can we talk about this?”

Keith wipes the blood off his chin with an undignified grimace. “There’s nothing to say.”

 _But there is_ , Shiro thinks. This time, the despair rears its head, strikes at him like an agitated snake. _There are so many things I need to say to you. Things I want to hear you say._

He doesn’t get a chance to verbalise it. Keith is on him in seconds flat, but he doesn’t resist. He allows Keith to get close, then abandons his defense. He uses their proximity to his advantage, enfolding Keith in his arms.

Taken off-guard, Keith finds himself in a crushing embrace. He beats on Shiro’s chest with his fists, scowling.

“Shiro!” he near-shouts. The agitation is scathing and his breath on Shiro’s neck is hot and rapid. “Let me go.”

“This isn’t how I want to say goodbye,” Shiro whispers fiercely into Keith’s hair. His hold becomes a fraction more vice-like. Keith’s fists uncurl against Shiro’s chest and his frame trembles once, barely noticeable if not for the closeness of their bodies. “Not like this, Keith.”

Maybe if Shiro holds Keith close enough, the Kerberos mission will slip away from his conscious thought like sand in an hourglass, footprints on a sandy shore taken by the tides. Maybe if he concentrates hard enough, he can forget. Maybe then he can look Keith in the eye again without feeling like he’s stared at the sun for too long.

“Who says it’s goodbye?” Keith asks at length. He sounds more certain than Shiro feels, a testament to his resilience. “Unless you plan on staying up there.”

“And risk never getting my ass kicked by you again?” Shiro chuckles despite himself. “Never.”

Keith laughs under his breath. Shiro clutches him tighter, as if that one small act can halt time itself and grant them another day. Time enough to process.

Keith’s mouth tugs into a frown against Shiro’s skin. He pats a hand slowly over Shiro’s chest in a repetitive back-and-forth motion as if to double-check. Then deft fingers procure a set of dog tags from his breast pocket. Keith draws back, dangling them off a finger for Shiro to see. “Why aren’t you wearing these? This is for identification in case you…”

“And I won’t,” Shiro says firmly. He eases back too, grasping Keith by the shoulders. He offers a rueful smile. “I wanted you to have them.”

Keith inhales sharply. “Shiro…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Shiro murmurs. “Take them and give them back me when I see you next. Think of it as a promise.”

Keith snatches the tags into his hand, closes it, and holds it to his chest.

“Deal,” he says, then smirks. “But you have to come back in one piece.”

“I can handle it,” Shiro replies, framing Keith’s face in his hands. “Same way I can handle you.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! :>
> 
> tumblr: shirogains  
> twitter: shirogains
> 
> feedback is appreciated ♡


End file.
